The Workings of the Human Heart
by Corinne Marie
Summary: A collection of the challenges for the forum wide competition on HPFC.
1. The Death of Helena Ravenclaw

**A/N: Okay, so this is my first try at a tragic story. I've done a suspense story before, but this was something else. It was a little tough to write, honestly, and I don't know how I did it. Anyways, enjoy. This was for the second round of the Forum Wide Competition in the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges Forum. The challenge was to write something about a character that belongs to your House, in my case Ravenclaw. So I used the Grey Lady. **

She knew he was watching her. Of course she knew. She'd always known. In school, she hadn't seemed to mind so much. She had always been just a little bit vain, just vain enough to keep his attention, and she hadn't told him to stop paying attention to her. She'd rejected him countless times, yes, but she'd always done it with a coy smile and a pair of very flirtatious eyes. Giving him hope, he supposed, so that he wouldn't stop.

He hadn't been sent to spy on her, anyway. He'd been sent to bring her home. Of course, he may have accepted Rowena's request solely for the fact that he'd get to see Helena. He doubted she'd come to see her mother willingly. She'd always been headstrong.

He did watch her, though. She didn't know how long he'd been watching her before she noticed, but she had recently started shutting her windows, even during the daytime. She loved sunlight, but not enough to risk being seen by him. During school, she'd enjoyed all the attention he paid her and the gifts he'd brought hoping to win her affection. But she didn't fancy the idea of him seeing her in the bath.

It was late afternoon one day when he came to see her. She hadn't known he was coming until she heard three loud knocks on her door. Her eyes closed slowly when she heard that sound, and she considered running away. But he'd find her again. He could always find her.

"What do you want?" she asked, leaning on the door. She refused to open it.

"Your mother requests your presence at home."

She didn't know why she opened the door. There was no reason for her to do it, and she regretted it as soon as she had. He hadn't been so tall and grown up the last time she'd seen him, and she hadn't expected to have to face someone so obviously strong without her wand in hand.

She walked to her fireplace. "Would you like some tea?" she asked, hoping her voice didn't sound as shaky as she thought it did.

She heard the door close gently behind her. "Your mother wants you home, Helena."

She turned to look at him again. He looked, as he usually did, very regal in dress. His skin, however, was a bit dirty, and she wondered exactly how long he'd spent looking for her. And why he felt the need to dress himself up for her. Wait, she knew why he did that.

"You can tell her I'm not coming back," Helena said quietly.

"Why?" He asked. He didn't sound angry, as she had expected. It was as if he had known what she was going to say.

"Because I don't want to."

"She's dying."

She lowered her eyes again and felt a tear slide down her cheek.

"You have to come home," he whispered.

She looked up at him, anger and tears in her eyes. "You will not be the one to tell me what to do! And neither will my mother. I'm not a child!" She turned again and angrily threw her cup in her sink.

"She told me not to come back without you."

"Well then I guess you'll have to not follow what someone says to do for once."

He sighed. "Why don't you want to see your mother before she dies?"

"It's not that I don't want to see her," Helena replied quietly, lowering her eyes once again. "I just…" she paused here, thinking about it. Why didn't she want to go back? "I don't want…I'd prefer not to…to feel obliged to stay." That was it. She didn't want to stay with him. As soon as she went back, people would notice she had no one to look after her. Men would try to take advantage, she'd have to choose someone. Come to think of it, that was probably why he was here in the first place.

"Why would you be obliged to stay? You could come back here."

"I…you know I can't. Not after she's dead."

"Fine," he muttered, "Stay with me."

She looked up at him. "You mean marry you?"

He didn't break eye contact with her. "And why not?"

"Because it's not what I want!"

His eyes narrowed, and she looked away sheepishly again. She hadn't meant to do this. He had a nasty temper, and she knew she couldn't control him, nor could she fight him.

"Why not?"

"I just…I don't want to get married. I want to be…If I ever do…I want to be in love."

She glanced up at him worriedly, but he just looked even angrier. She stared down again.

"You don't think you can learn to love me?"

"I…I don't know."

"So come back with me."

"No."

"Helena, don't make me angry."

"I can't come back." She was getting even more frightened now. Her voice was shaking and tears were rolling down her cheeks.

He grabbed her shoulders and she squeezed her eyes shut.

"Let go, please."

"What's wrong with me?"

"Your temper, maybe," she said, finding some part of her that was still angry rather than scared.

He pulled out his knife. His eyes looked almost sad. "Take it back, Helena. Change your mind. Come back with me."

She shook her head, tears in her eyes, trying to make herself look as strong as possible. He lowered his knife, looking apologetic.

She hadn't been expecting it. When he took a step back, away from her, she thought the worst was over, that he'd just go home and tell her mother he'd failed. And then he struck. And struck again, and again and again. Helena fell to her knees, looking down at herself. Blood was pouring out of her wounds just as tears were pouring out of here eyes. She ran her hands over the cuts just to be sure it was real.

He caught her when she fell, a look of ashamed sadness in his eyes. "No," he whispered, "No, I didn't…I didn't mean…"

She looked at him, and felt the oddest feeling. She felt…proud. Proud that she had finally shown him what his temper could do. And relieved. She felt relieved that she wouldn't have to go back, and that he wouldn't be able to bother her anymore. She thought all of that in the space of a second, and in the next second, she realized how ridiculous that sounded. She was dying. She almost would have laughed if it wasn't so tragic.

He watched her as her final breath left her body. He'd killed her. He was stunned. How could he have done that? How could he have done that to her? He couldn't believe it. He shook her again. She was completely limp.

He dropped her and stood up. He couldn't believe it. She couldn't be…dead. She just couldn't. But she was.

"What have I done?" he asked her, as if she'd answer him. He looked at the knife in his hand, watched it as it fell to the ground when he dropped it. The shock subsided, and suddenly he was angry. He was angry at her for making him angry in the first place, angry at Rowena for sending him and angry at himself, because he knew that he hadn't needed to do it.

But she'd looked so proud of herself when she thought he was just going to leave. He hated when people thought they'd beaten him.

And then he wasn't angry anymore. He was…he was sad. He sat down next to her and couldn't help but cry. Even in death she hadn't lost her beauty, and he felt as if he'd just killed a unicorn. If he'd killed something that beautiful and pure…Well, she probably wasn't all that pure. But even so. He couldn't live that sort of half-life.

Without a thought in his head, he picked up the knife he'd dropped before. He wasn't even sure he was thinking as he plunged the knife into his chest. He watched the blood pour out of his body, trying to feel as she'd felt. Was she scared? Angry? Satisfied?

As he died, he thought of what could have been. He could have held his temper, let her live, convinced her to come back. He turned his head, an action which took most of his remaining strength, and looked at her for the last time.

Or so he thought.

A few moments later, he stood, but not really. When he looked down, he saw his body lying there, looking at her. And then he heard someone sobbing nearby, and looked up.

She met his eye when he looked at her. But he couldn't bring himself to apologize. He ran—no, he couldn't run, he was a ghost. He _flew _quickly out of her little house. He didn't know where to go, but he had to leave then.

Helena sat in the chair in her dining room. Maybe she should go home now. There was no reason not to. Except that she may have to deal with him again. But that was okay. There was nothing he could do to her now.

Maybe the end of her life was just what she needed to start over.

**A/N: And a very special thanks to my aunt for proofreading my work for me.**


	2. The Invitation

**A/N: Okay, so I realize that this is only the second challenge I've done for the competition, but, here it is. Um, well, I'm in Ravenclaw, and since I'd already written a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin for the first challenge I did, I used two Gryffindors this time. The challenge was to write a "missing moment" from the Harry Potter series, but it has to be known that it happened. It also has to be in first person. This is the scene where Neville asks Ginny to the ball as I see it happening, from Ginny's POV. **

"This ball is driving everyone mad!" I said to Luna as we walked along the corridor, listening to girls giggling as boys passed them, trying to catch their attention. "It's pathetic. I mean really, who wants to go to some stupid ball anyway?" I tried to ignore the way boys were reacting to their silly games.

Luna looked at me and smiled. "You would."

I looked at her, shocked that she would think that. "No, I wouldn't."

"I think you would if you were old enough," she said dreamily, as always.

I thought it over for a moment. "Maybe. But that doesn't mean I'll just go with anyone who asks me, just because I can't go by myself."

"Who would you go with? If they asked you?"

"Er…" I didn't say anything beyond that. I couldn't. Everyone knew I had a crush on Harry for awhile, but most people assumed I was over him by now.

"I think I'd go if Harry asked me. Wouldn't you?"

I was beginning to think Luna could read minds. "I…yes, I suppose I would. But he wouldn't ask me, would he? Not unless there was no one else."

Luna nodded. We'd reached the Great Hall by then. Neville was sitting alone just outside the doorway, looking sad. Probably just been turned down by some girl who was waiting to be asked by Viktor Krum or something. Too bad he'd chosen Hermione.

"Luna, maybe you'd better go in. I'll see you later."

"Alright. Have fun," she said, waving at me as she entered the Great Hall.

As soon as she'd walked inside, I sat down next to Neville. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"I've just asked Hermione to go with me to the ball." Of course. Wait, he'd asked Hermione? Actually, she may even have said yes under different circumstances. I mentally applauded his choice.

"And she said no," I said, being one of only three people to know why.

He nodded. "She's always been so nice and all. She even let me down easy. Said she was going with someone else." I nodded. "D'you reckon it's true?"

"Oh, yes, it's true," I said, maybe a little too hurriedly. "I mean, she told me who asked her. I'm not supposed to tell, though."

He sighed. "I understand. I suppose I just won't go."

"Why?" I asked, touching his shoulder.

"Well, who else will go with me? And I don't want to go alone." He sighed again. "I went through all the trouble of learning to dance, too."

I patted his arm. "I'm sure you can find someone else."

He scoffed. "Who'd want to go with me?"

"I'm sure there are plenty of girls. If you aren't interested in taking someone specific, you can walk down any one of these corridors and ask the first girl who giggles as you walk by. It means they like you."

He smiled a little at me, and I knew I was helping. "Oh, and if you really don't feel confident, try asking someone younger. Lots of third year girls are dying to go."

"Would you go with me?" he asked, looking hopeful.

I was sure my surprise showed on my face. Go to the ball with Neville? Hm. I couldn't go otherwise. But I didn't really want to go. Except that I'd just told Luna I would go if someone asked me, as long as it wasn't a last resort. And, well, Neville had already been turned down once. Not to mention that he was better than most other boys.

"I…well, I don't see why not. So, yes, I suppose."

The look of happiness on his face was well worth the decision. "Great. So, I'll see you later, then," he said, standing up. I nodded, smiling at him. He left without another word.

I sat for a few more seconds, watching him go, already starting to feel excited for the coming event. I hoped that I wouldn't turn into one of those pathetic girls that couldn't talk about anything else but the ball for the next few weeks. Still, it wasn't often that I got to wear a dress. And Hermione could probably have her mum send one so I wouldn't wind up wearing something orange. And we'd have fun, at the very least laughing at Ron for looking as ridiculous as he did. And Harry was going. I let my mind drift into the world of fantasy, the one where he actually saw me as something other than his best mate's sister. But only for a moment. I shook my head to clear it of such silly thoughts and stood, going to find Hermione. We had planning to do.

Maybe this wasn't going to be such a bad thing after all.

**A/N: Anyways, you know what to do. :-)**


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